A Game of Schemes (Volume 4) by T. C. Blue

Author:T. C. Blue
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9781781845448
Publisher: Total-E-Bound
Published: 2012-11-12T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

There were a lot of things in the world that Cas hated. Hamsters, for instance. He couldn’t trust anything that cute and seemingly harmless, especially when it ran around on a wheel all day long, apparently getting nowhere. Bunnies, too. They looked so sweet and innocent, but they could turn on you in the blink of an eye and sink long, curved, deceptively sharp teeth against the hands of whoever was holding one. Cas still had the scar on his palm to prove it. He also hated being ditched while someone—in this case Sully—wandered off to Gods knew where, clearly to talk about Cas. He hated that most of all. Sully didn’t even know him. Not really. Except Cas thought maybe Sully did somehow. Possibly in the same way that Cas believed—knew—that whoever had called, Sully wouldn’t let them hurt Cas.

It was more than a little bizarre, but Cas didn’t doubt his own surety. Even with barely knowing Sully anymore, there was something about the man that made Cas feel safe, Gods help him.

“So.” Steve’s voice shook Cas from his thoughts and Cas blushed hotly, mostly because he’d forgotten Steve was even there. “Who’s this Thomas Cashel? And don’t tell me it’s no one. I’m a bodyguard, not a speed bump.”

Hells. Cas couldn’t even pretend he didn’t know what Steve was talking about. Not after trying that gambit with Sully and failing so miserably, and especially not when Steve already knew the drunk act was just that—an act.

“It’s Castiel. Tomas Castiel. And he’s me. Or maybe I’m him. I don’t know.” Cas frowned. “You know, I think Sully was right. We should wait until the butler brings the food. It’s not the sort of thing that makes sense when it gets interrupted.” He considered, then let loose a mirthless chuckle. “Gods know it might not make sense even when it’s said all at once, but it seems more likely than the other.”

Steve made a sound that was part rumble, part snort and Cas finally looked at him, only to find a matching expression on the man’s face—amused but sceptical. “I’ll hold you to that,” Steve said bluntly. “I can’t protect you if I don’t know exactly what kind of crap might come back to bite you on the ass.”

Cas tried to find a response, but a knock sounded at the closed door of the yellow salon just then, followed immediately by Jeremiah, laden down with a large tray. Steve jumped up to help the man and together they settled it on one of the many small tables.

“Thank you,” Jeremiah said quietly. “And I do apologise.” One hand left the tray, finding Steve’s arm.

Steve frowned. “For what?”

“For this,” Jeremiah answered, so softly that Cas barely heard him. Then the hand on Steve’s arm gripped tight and Steve jerked away before stiffening and starting to topple.

The butler, who looked far too thin to manage it, somehow caught Steve while Cas rose from his seat, ready to lunge at the man. Then the much older man shifted the no-longer-stiff form onto the loveseat.

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